Chapter 28

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Chapter 28

When I woke up again, I was upside down. The world was both spinning and moving up and down at the same time. It made my stomach feel as if it were being turned inside out.

"Im going to throw up," I groaned and was met with a sudden stop in movement. I felt strong hands pull me down to sit me what I realized were steps in a stairwell, and I looked up to see Robbie looking concerned.

"Lia, what the hell did you take?" He asked, cupping my face with his large hand.

"I don't know, but make the room stop spinning," I groaned, holding on to his wrist.

He sighed, and I felt his hand smooth the hair at the back of my head, "are you going to throw up?"

I shook my head. "No. I don't think so. I think I'm feeling better; I think it was being upside down."

"Do you think you can make it upstairs? Can you hold yourself up a little, and I can carry you differently?" He asked.

I nodded and then winced, instantly regretted the motion.

He pulled my arms around his neck and picked me up while holding my thighs.

"Don't barf on me, Cee," he said into my hair, and I closed my eyes and laid my head on his shoulder.

He had a fire going in his room, and it was so lovely and warm, I almost let out a whine when he walked past it. He eased the door of his bathroom open with his foot and placed me down on the cold marble tile my back propped against his bathtub.

I groaned into my hands as Robbie started taking off my shoes. My head lolled back on the edge of his tub; it felt like it weighed two tons.

"Robbie! I've been looking for you!" I heard a high-pitched voice say. I lifted my head up with strength I did not know I had.

It was the girl again, the one on his bed. She was unrealistically beautiful. Seriously why were rich people so good-looking? How was that even fair?

"This party is so loud!" she said and then frowned when she noticed me.

"Oh no, is your cousin okay?" She asked, her eyes wide, "Oh did you have those brownies? A few kids went home feeling so sick from them."

"Viviana, I need you to leave,"

"Baby, this party is boring, and none of my friends came," she said, pouting.

"Baby?" I asked and looked up at him.

I had a flash of seeing them both together, and that did it. I felt the little food I had eaten make its way up and out into the toilet next to me.

"Jesus," Robbie said and scooped up my hair. When I finished, I leaned back against the edge of the tub and tried to calm down my stomach by breathing deeply through my nose.

"Better?" He asked softly, pulling a strand of sweaty hair off my forehead. I had a brief moment of sobriety after I finished and cringed at myself. Suddenly, it dawned on me that I was in Robbie's bathroom looking like a mess while he had that girl in a guest room. I just threw myself at him, and he pushed me off, I don't know how many times. I felt like a total creep.

I leaned over again and felt another wave come up.

"Oh my goodness," I heard her say, and I didn't have to look at her to know she was grimacing in disgust.

"Viviana—"

"Okay, I'm going, but can we watch a movie afterward? I've been bored all day."

"Bye, Viviana," he said, his voice stern. I heard her gasp before leaving. Then heard his door slam behind her.

I heaved a few times with nothing coming up and then let out a sob.

"You're done, you're done," he murmured and then turned on the faucet. He soaked a towel and wrung it before using it to wipe my face.

"Why is she so loud?" I asked.

He let out a laugh, "I don't know," he said as he pressed the towel against my neck.

"How are you feeling now?" He asked, pulling me up on my feet.

"Horrible, everything keeps spinning, and there is like one and a half of you," I said, feeling smaller than I ever have.

"Well, you live, and you learn."

I groaned, and he chuckled and pulled me into a hug, his chin resting on my head.

"Are you trying to dance with me?"

"No, Cee, we're not moving."

"Okay, just making sure."

"I think I know a way to make it a little better. Do you trust me?" He asked.

"Yes."

He undid the zipper on my dress and then pulled it up, "Hands up," he said, slipping the dress off, his gaze fixed to the wall behind me.

"Underwear, love," he said, his voice catching in his throat.

I slipped off my underwear and felt his hand reach out to steady me and then helped me into his tub.

"Im sorry," he said.

"Why?" I asked, looking up at him.

"Because it's going to be really cold."

"Wha—"I barely had time to register what he said before he twisted the shower's knob. It was shocking at first the cold water made me catch my breath, and then I screamed.

"I saw Jessie hose, Chris, down once when he had way too much to drink. It will help with the dizziness and make it easier to go to sleep," he said, giving me an apologetic look.

He turned the knob to warm, "take a shower, you'll feel better. The towel there is clean," he said, pointing to the towel hanging on the wall before stepping out.

I stared at the door after he was gone. I felt so many emotions all at once that I found it impossible in my current state of insobriety to split them apart. It was almost numbing. I showered and marveled at how strange everything felt, my skin moving my fingers.

When I was done, I closed the drain with the plug he had chained to the faucet and made the water as hot as I could bear and sat down, watching as the water filled up the tall clawfoot tub. It was mesmerizing; I watched as the water lapped up my toes and up my shins, my knees, my stomach. I let it fill until it passed my breasts and stopped it when it reached my chin.

The water stung my skin, and I felt as if it were punishment for everything that happened today. Punishment, and then I paid my dues. This water would dissolve everything, the pain, the embarrassment, the shame. I grabbed the hand towel he used to wipe my face and lathered it up with soap, and scrubbed and scrubbed until my skin was red and I had gotten every inch.

I did feel more awake. I didn't know if that was a good thing. That girl called Robbie baby? What the fuck?

I sat looking at the soapy water. It reminded me of an oil spill.

I held my nose and took a deep breath, and slid into the water. It felt hot on the thin skin on my eyelids and my ears.

When I was a kid who dreamt of being an Olympic swimmer, I would practice holding my breath underwater like that. I would be very, very still and count. One Mississippi, two Mississippi. I once almost got to two minutes.

A strange calm came with being underwater, and I wondered how drowning would actually feel.

I hit 50 Mississippi's when I felt a hand wrap around my wrist and pull me up.

"Jesus Christ, Lia, what if you passed out?!" Robbie asked, a worried look on his face. He pushed my wet hair back and held my chin.

"What were you doing?" He asked, his face a mixture of fear and exhaustion. His green eyes were piercing.

"Taking a bath," I said, "why did she call you that?"

"Jesus, how hot is this water? It's almost scalding," he muttered, grabbing the towel.

I stood on shaky legs, and he threw the towel over me, wrapping me up like a child.

"Im going to get you a shirt," he said, walking back out. I looked out around the bathroom; my toothbrush was there, in the same spot next to his. I felt pinpricks in the corner of my eyes.

"Here," he said, throwing the shirt over my head. I slipped my arms through it and let the towel fall. "finish up, go to bed," he said, stepping out.

"Stop ignoring my question!" I said, frustrated.

He came back and leaned on the doorjamb, "Lia, this is not a conversation to have when you're drunk."

"Stop treating me like a child. You lied."

"No. I didn't. Finish up; it's late; I'm tired."

I let out a groan of frustration when he went back into his room.

I finished in the bathroom washing my face, brushing my teeth. I looked at myself in the mirror. My fingertips were still a bit numb, but the room had stopped spinning violently, and my stomach calmed down. I looked awful. My face had been scrubbed clean, but my eyes and nose were red, and my hair was matted and messy. I ran my fingers through my curling hair and eventually gave up when it refused to be tamed.

I padded out into the room where Robbie was waiting. He sat on the floor, his back against the bed, reading a book. His hair was a bit wet, a casualty from when he turned on the shower. He had his sleeves rolled up, and I could see the tendons on his forearms the thick veins on his wrists.

In this lighting, I could barely see his freckles, but his lips looked full, and his cheekbones...I paused when I noticed he had the beginnings of a bruise under his eye.

"What happened to your face?" I asked. I don't remember that bruise being there earlier, but to be fair, everything acquired a sort of haze that made it difficult to focus.

He looked up from the book, "Take the bed; the second drawer still has your things," he said, ignoring me.

"Are you going to sleep in the guest room?" the question slipped out, and I regretted it the instant it left my lips. Never ask a question you might not like the answer to. I walked over to the drawer and took out a pair of underwear.

"No. I'm going to sleep on the floor," Robbie said, pointing to the pillow he had thrown next to the bed.

"Why? That—"

"I'm sleeping here," he interrupted, "because Ryans is sleeping in the living room, and I don't like the thought of him waking up and looking for you."

I stood on my tippy toes to get a better look at his face.

"Did Noah do that?" I asked, frowning. He grabbed my wrists and gently pushed me back.

"Get to bed, Cee," he said, lifting the covers off his bed.

"You don't have to sleep on the floor."

He stared at me for a long moment and then shook his head, "bed, come on," he said, standing up and pulling back the covers.

"Robbie, you're going to wake up feeling awful," I said, sitting on the edge. He motioned for me to put my feet up and then tucked me in. His sheets were heavy and soft. They smelled like him so much I fought the urge to bury my nose in them.

He squatted down to my eye level, his forearms resting on the edge of the bed, "Nah, haven't you heard it's good to sleep on the floor every once in a while," he said, a smile tugged on his lips.

I laid down on my side to look at him at eye level. The room was starting to sway again, and I had to agree with him that going to sleep was probably the best thing I could do.

"Can we talk now?"

"Did you magically get sober in five minutes?"

"Yes?"

He gave me a tired look, "walk in a straight line."

"Can you just take my word for it?" I asked sheepishly. 

"Nope."

"I'm sorry," I said.

"For what, love?" He asked, resting his chin on his forearms.

"For acting like a lunatic earlier," I said, feeling a warm rush of blood settle on my cheeks.

"It's not your fault," he said.

"Well, thank you, anyway," I said and ran a hand through his hair winding my fingers on the curls at the end. He closed his eyes as I did it, and it emboldened me to do it again. His hair was so soft.

"You know you really don't have to do all this," I said.

"It's okay," he said as I reached the ends of his hair again, he grabbed my hand and placed a kiss on my palm.

"It's not okay; you're not my boyfriend. It's not fair to you."

He looked down at the bed and frowned.

"You're just sensitive because you're drunk. Go to sleep," he said and leaned over to place a kiss on my forehead. 

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